The Bullet's Kiss
by Smackalicious
Summary: Ziva is shot in the line of duty, and her recovery takes an odd turn, like something out of a fairy tale. McGiva. Written for the Once Upon an NCIS challenge on NFA. Already complete; will post one chapter per day.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Bullet's Kiss**  
**Pairing: McGee/Ziva **  
**Rating: T**  
**Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Suspense **  
**Cat: Gen/Het**  
**Spoilers: None.**  
**Warnings: None.**  
**Summary: Ziva is shot in the line of duty, and her recovery takes an odd turn, like something out of a fairy tale.**  
**Author's Note: Written for the Once Upon an NCIS Challenge. The fairy tale this is based off will be evident by the end of the first chapter. Three chapters, already completed. :) Just realized I hadn't posted this here, for whatever reason, and figured I'd give people something to read, if they haven't already, since I haven't updated in awhile. Sorry! I'll make up for it. ;)**

* * *

The gunshot echoed for what seemed like years, and McGee found his head filled with the loudest scream he could imagine as he watched her fall.

_No. This wasn't happening. Not her. She wasn't supposed to get shot. She was . . ._

He ran across the warehouse, his heart beating as loud as his feet slapping across the cement. He wasn't even thinking, he just needed to get to her. He needed to keep an eye out for the shooter, the man they had been tailing, to ensure he wouldn't be shot, as well, but he couldn't, not until he knew . . .

Another shot rang out and he ducked instinctively, rounding on the sound and holding his gun toward it. He saw a faint flicker of movement from behind a stack of lumber and started shooting at it, continuing to fire rounds until he heard a strangled cry and a soft thud as a body fell. He flipped the safety on his gun, hands shaking, and sprinted toward her, trying not to let the waves of panic coursing through him overtake his mind.

As he reached her, he fell to his knees and pressed his hands to the blood seeping from the hole in her chest, his breath catching in his throat as he felt tears prick in his eyes. He needed to be strong, he needed to get help here, he needed to save her.

"Come on, Ziva, you're tough, hang in there," he said, focusing on her face rather than the red slowly covering his fingers. Her eyes opened and he found himself gasping. "Ziva! Oh, thank God."

"Thank you, McGee," she murmured, her voice small and weak, and McGee's eyes widened in confusion.

"Thank you for what?" he asked, glancing at his hands and immediately regretting it as he saw the liquid coating them. He looked back to her face and found her with a ghost of a smile on it.

"For being such a good friend," she replied, and with that, her eyes shut again and McGee began panicking once more.

"What? No. No, you're not just going to die, Ziva." He pressed harder on the wound, hoping to keep her from losing more blood. When she didn't respond, he let out a soft sob, but attempted to compose himself when he heard sirens, followed by feet pounding across the warehouse to join them.

"McGee!" The shout forced him to look up briefly, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Ziva for long, and gazed down on her face, hoping she was playing a cruel joke on him and would soon open her eyes and stand up and the blood covering his hands would be a figment of his imagination.

"Hey, McGee." The voice was suddenly right next to him, and McGee glanced up to see Gibbs standing over him, blue eyes dark with concern. "You okay?"

McGee held his gaze for a moment, then focused on Ziva again, pressing with more force on her chest. He shook his head. "I gotta save her, Boss."

"Probie, the EMTs are here," Tony said from behind Gibbs, and McGee shook his head, refusing to let go of Ziva. "Let them do their jobs."

McGee couldn't even hold back the tears that trekked down his cheeks as Gibbs touched his arm and started to pull him to his feet. "I let her down, Boss. I let you down." He stared down at Ziva even as the EMTs took over and did their jobs and Gibbs attempted to lead him a few feet away, so he could clear his head of what had happened, even though Gibbs knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

"Tim," Gibbs said, and McGee finally looked up at him, his eyes full of despair. "She'll be okay. You did good."

"I did good?" McGee spat in disbelief. He almost ran a hand through his hair, then looked down and saw that it was still covered in blood and choked on a sob. He instead gestured back to the EMTs working on Ziva. "Boss, Ziva got shot! She's . . . she's lying there bleeding, because I didn't have her back! I should've got him! I should've got him before he got her!"

Gibbs listened to his rant and then calmly asked, "You done?"

McGee started to nod, then took in Gibbs' words and reeled back with a disgusted look on his face. "What?" he asked, too shocked by the question to think about how he was responding, to Gibbs, of all people.

"I asked if you were done," Gibbs repeated, his voice still quiet. "We got a crime scene to take care of."

McGee looked at him for a moment, then peeked over Gibbs' shoulder to where the EMT's were attending to Ziva, closing his eyes against the image. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I'll do it."

"Good," Gibbs said, knowing this couldn't be easy for his agent. "Go with DiNozzo to get washed up. I'll wait here for Ducky and Palmer."

McGee nodded again, though this time his expression was blank. Gibbs knew he was trying to separate himself from what had happened, make Ziva into just another victim, because if he didn't, he might fall apart. He watched as Tony guided McGee outside to get cleaned up, then turned back to the ambulance, letting out a deep breath at the sight of Ziva lying on a gurney, motionless.

She wouldn't die. After all she'd been through, this was not how she was going to go.

* * *

Once the scene was secured, Gibbs announced they were all going to the hospital. Tony grumbled something about how someone should have gone with Ziva in the ambulance, but his protests died on his lips with the withering look Gibbs gave him. They were on their way now, and Gibbs had kept in touch with the hospital staff, so they knew Ziva's status.

She was still unconscious, and they had taken her into surgery. Ducky was going to head over there after he and Palmer returned the body of the man McGee had shot to NCIS, and Abby would surely be going with him.

The car ride to the hospital was silent for Gibbs, Tony and McGee, the latter of the three sitting in the back seat, staring blankly out the windshield. It was so sunny. It didn't seem right. Ziva had been shot, she could die, but the sun just kept on shining . . .

"McGee." The quiet voice made McGee look up, and he found that the car had stopped and Gibbs was looking back at him. "You coming in?"

He looked out of the windshield again, realizing then that they had reached the hospital. He blinked and looked back at Gibbs, nodding, but not saying a word as he stepped out of the car.

As they walked through the hallway of the hospital, McGee felt like everyone was staring at him, judging him. _It's all your fault_, they were saying, sneering at him in disgust._You let her get shot. Her blood is on your hands_.

The thought was ridiculous, completely irrational, and he knew the other people in the hospital didn't know them or why they were there, but he couldn't quell the feeling of guilt over what had happened.

They rounded the corner to the nurse's station, Gibbs taking the lead and asking the nurse sitting there about Ziva, while Tony and McGee hung back, Tony looking around for signs of Ducky and Abby.

"Tony!" they heard a few moments later, and Abby bounded into his arms before he had time to react, sniffling into his shoulder. "Oh my God, this is so terrible. Did they tell you anything?"

"No, no, the Boss is finding out right now," he responded, running a hand absently down her back before pulling away, holding her out at arm's length and saying, "Listen, I gotta, um, make a phone call. Talk to McGee." He walked away then, leaving Abby watching McGee, who still hadn't said anything to her.

"He's not going to make a phone call, is he?" Abby asked as she turned to watch Tony walk out the hospital doors.

"Nope," McGee responded blankly. "Probably went off to punch something, since he can't punch me."

"Oh, Timmy," Abby said, walking up to him and putting her arms carefully around him and resting her head on his shoulder. "It's not your fault. It was just a really bad accident."

"That could have been prevented," he said softly, though he still wasn't completely "there."

"Timmy . . ."

"Don't, Abby," he said, and this time it seemed that he had finally come out of his reverie. He unwrapped her arms from around his shoulders and walked toward Gibbs, standing there until Gibbs turned around.

"Where's DiNozzo?" he asked, his voice quiet.

McGee's face paled at the sound of Gibbs' voice and he swallowed, but found himself unable to speak. Luckily for him, Abby was still there.

"He went outside," she said softly, still trying to get over being rebuffed by McGee.

Gibbs nodded, then said, "Well, I guess I can tell you now."

"What, Boss?" McGee whispered.

"Ziva's in a coma," he said. "The doctors aren't sure when she'll wake up."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_As_ _Ziva makes her way through the abandoned warehouse, she finds herself with an odd niggle of something in her stomach. The man they are hunting down . . . He cannot possibly be the man they are looking for. He has a wife, a child, no criminal record._

Ziva shakes her head. She knows none of that matters, and she wonders why now, of all times, she is doubting herself. She thinks back to the interrogation.

He begged her, literally begged her, to keep his family safe. She let her guard down.

A shot rings out and it takes the hard concrete under her for Ziva to realize she wasn't the one who shot.

She's the one who has been shot.

* * *

Ducky walked into the waiting room with Tony in tow, both men looking grim and serious. The older man took one look at Abby's mascara-streaked face and frowned. "Abigail," he said, and she stood up from the chair she had been waiting in and walked over to him, hugging him and crying anew.

"It's not fair, Ducky," she murmured through her tears.

"Shh," Ducky consoled her, patting her on the back. "Ziva is very strong. She will not allow something like this to be her end. Just you wait and see."

Abby sniffled against his shoulder, but gave a shaky smile. "You're right. Ziva's stubborn. She wouldn't be on Gibbs' team if she wasn't."

Ducky smiled back, though there was still sadness in his eyes. "That is a fact, my dear." His eyes wandered to the other side of the waiting room, where McGee was sitting with his head hung. He frowned, then looked back to Abby. "Will you be alright, Abigail? I think my psychological services may be needed."

Abby sensed what he wasn't saying and nodded. "Yeah, Ducky. I'll be okay."

Ducky smiled and patted her on the shoulder, then walked over to where McGee sat, standing before him and waiting for him to look up. He did after a long moment, and Ducky spoke. "May I sit down?"

"Not my waiting room," McGee responded, his tone blank. "Do what you want."

Ducky frowned, but took the seat next to the younger man. "Timothy, do you really think Ziva would want you out here moping?"

"Well, it's not like I can do anything to change what she's going through," he said softly, still looking down at the floor.

"Precisely," Ducky agreed, and that made McGee look up, surprise registering in his eyes. "Which is why you should change your disposition."

McGee's expression grew somber again. "Thanks for the pep talk, Ducky, but I don't really deserve it. None of this would be happening if it weren't for me."

"That is only true," Ducky said in a conspiratorial tone, leaning in closer to McGee, "if you wish it to be so. Tell me, Timothy," he sat up straight again, raising his voice slightly, "would you like to be there when Ziva awakens?"

"I . . ." he started, his brow furrowing in thought, then he sighed. "I don't know. I really don't think Ziva would want me -"

"You think wrong, lad," Ducky interrupted. McGee turned to look at him, confusion and sorrow in his eyes. "What she needs is to feel your presence, to know you care."

McGee looked down at his hands. "But what about the rest of you? None of you are responsible for her being in a coma. I'm sure she'd rather wake up to you all." He looked back up, his eyes shiny.

"We will be there eventually," Ducky said, then laid a hand on McGee's shoulder. "But for the moment she returns, that pleasure should be yours alone."

McGee simply stared at Ducky, awed by the words and in wonder of how the older man knew the depth of his feelings for Ziva, how it was more than just guilt piled on top of worry for him, how if she died, or if she remained in this comatose state for the rest of her life, it would kill him, too.

He swallowed and spoke. "Will you . . . Will you take me to her room?"

Ducky gave him a smile. "Once I approve it with her doctor, then yes. I will make sure you are there."

For the first time since Ziva had been shot, McGee smiled.

* * *

_Ziva watches from above as another image of herself lies bleeding on a concrete floor. She does not understand how this can be, how she can be both here and there, and when she sees McGee run to the bleeding Ziva, she tries to call out to him, to make him see._

But he is focused, intent on keeping this other Ziva alive, and to see him so in pain himself, it makes her want to cry.

She must remember, she needs to pass it on to the Ziva in his world, to thank him for everything he has ever done for her. And then . . .

The Ziva on the floor reaches up, whispering her gratitude, and she wants to scream.

This is not the way it is supposed to happen! He thinks she is going to die!

And then, she watches as the Ziva below her closes her eyes, and she doesn't know how long it will be before she wakes again.

She can only hope it isn't too late.

* * *

Ducky cleared it with Ziva's doctor to allow McGee to sit with Ziva in her hospital room, and the two men walked toward her room, McGee turning to Ducky at the last second, panic in his eyes.

"I don't know if I can do it, Ducky," he admitted, and Ducky gave him a sympathetic look. "I just don't want to see her like that."

Ducky laid a hand on McGee's shoulder and turned him around to face the door to Ziva's room, saying, "It will not be easy, Timothy, but she needs you there." He stepped in front of McGee then so he could look him in the eye. "And you need to do it for yourself."

McGee hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "You're right. I'll do it. For Ziva." Ducky gave a slow nod and stepped aside, a wordless suggestion that McGee should go in.

McGee took a deep breath and walked past Ducky, shoulders held high. The three steps it took to reach the door seemed to take eons, and as he pushed the door open, he found his eyes closing of their own volition and frowned. He needed to be stronger than this. He sucked in another breath and opened his eyes, focusing on the figure lying still in the hospital bed before him.

Ziva.

He let out the breath as he realized that she didn't look as bad as he anticipated. She looked almost . . . peaceful. He gave a shaky smile as he walked closer to her bed, allowing his hand to drop to run his fingers gently across her arm, his heartbeat speeding up a bit at the thought of her moving, reacting to his touch.

But his hopes were futile, as she continued to sleep, the only signs of life in her being the machine beeping steadily at the bedside. He swept his fingers from her arm and studied her face before reaching around behind him to pull the chair that sat there closer to the bed. He sat down, keeping his eyes on Ziva's face.

After another moment, he reached out and placed his hand on top of hers. His palm swallowed the whole of her hand and he seemed almost surprised by that fact - Ziva had killed with her bare hands, so it seemed illogical for them to be so small, fragile. But she was, before all else, a woman, and McGee had never forgotten that.

He sighed, picking up her limp hand and placing it in inside his own. "I'm sorry, Ziva," he whispered. "I'm sorry, and you have to wake up. If I were Gibbs, I'd slap you upside the head and order you to wake up," he laughed softly to himself, but it was short-lived, "but I'm not Gibbs. I just . . . I need you to wake up, Ziva." He used his free hand to brush away a tear that had rolled down his cheek and choked out another laugh. "If nothing else, you need to make fun of me for crying over you." He squeezed her hand, letting out a long, shaky breath. "Please, wake up."

She remained asleep.

* * *

_The scene Ziva sees now is foreign to her. Lush green trees and ferns surround her and she finds herself more curious than worried or afraid. Everything is too bright, too perfect. Almost as if . . ._

Her thought goes unfinished as she sees a platform ahead, covered by a glass dome. She glances around, almost as if checking to see if this is a trap, if someone will reach out and grab her as she falls for the trick of being drawn to the mysterious object. But no one else is around. She is alone.

She walks carefully toward her destination, the greenery shushing softly around her feet and calves, and steps up the small set of stairs beside the dome. When she sees what is contained inside, she lets out an involuntary gasp.

It is her. Ziva is looking down at herself contained inside the glass, motionless, in a deep sleep or . . . The thought boggles her mind, but she wonders . . .

Is this what happens when you die?


	3. Chapter 3

"Where's McGee?" Gibbs' voice roused Ducky from the magazine article he'd been perusing, and Abby lifted her head from where it had been resting on Tony's shoulder, then blinked her eyes and yawned.

"With Ziva," Abby answered, and when Gibbs looked at Ducky, he nodded his agreement.

Gibbs' expression softened. "How long's he been in there?" he asked, his voice soft.

Ducky looked at his watch. "All night, Jethro."

Gibbs gave him a surprised look. "How'd you manage _that_?"

Ducky gave him a knowing smile. "Let us just say that Timothy made that decision for himself." Gibbs raised an eyebrow and turned to walk away, but Ducky's voice stopped him. "Jethro, I think it may be important not to interrupt them."

Gibbs faced him again, looking the older man in the eye. "You know something I don't, Duck?"

Ducky continued smiling, but it was bittersweet. "Just that your young agent is in a fragile place right now, and if you wish for him - both of them, really - to come out of this relatively unscathed . . ." He let the statement trail off and Gibbs nodded, though he didn't look exactly happy. Ducky placed a hand on his arm. "You may have to allow them to bend your rules a bit, but it _will_ be for the best, Jethro."

Gibbs didn't say anything, just grunted and began to walk away, tossing out an, "I'm going for coffee," over his shoulder.

Ducky frowned, then turned back to where Tony and Abby were sitting. Tony was still asleep, and Abby gave Ducky a concerned look. "What did you mean by bending the rules, Ducky?"

Ducky let out a sigh, then looked in the direction of Ziva's room. He looked back at Abby. "I believe my point would best be illustrated by you seeing what I mean." He held out a hand to her and she took it, standing, but she looked back at Tony, worried.

"I don't want to leave him alone, Ducky," she said quietly. She quickly leaned over, shaking Tony a bit. He cracked an eye open at her and she said, "I'll be right back, Tony."

"Where're ya goin'?" Tony asked, yawning as an afterthought.

"Just down the hall," Ducky confirmed when Abby looked to him for assistance. Abby smiled and patted Tony on the shoulder, then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before standing upright and taking Ducky's arm.

They walked in silence for a few moments, then Abby said, "Ziva really needs to wake up soon. I mean, Timmy's so worried. He thinks he's responsible. He's not going to leave her room until she wakes up."

"And you think he will once she does?" Ducky responded rhetorically, and Abby stopped next to him by the door for Ziva's room. He pointed inside and Abby looked through the small window on the door, smiling at the sight she saw.

McGee was asleep at Ziva's bedside, her hand nestled in his own. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Do you see what I mean now?" Ducky asked softly, resting a hand on Abby's shoulder.

Abby turned back to him, her expression nostalgic. "I want him to be happy, Ducky," she said, and her smile faltered as she thought of the alternative. "She needs to wake up."

Ducky enveloped her in another hug. "She will, my dear. Until then, all we can do is wait."

And wait they did, as hours turned into days, and days turned into a week. The team returned to NCIS to work . . . except for McGee. He refused to leave the hospital, only leaving Ziva's side to use the restroom or splash water over his face for an attempt at cleanliness. Every night, Abby or Gibbs or someone else from NCIS would come in, to check on Ziva's progress (though they would have been notified immediately of any changes in her status) and to bring McGee something to eat, which he mostly barely touched.

After nine days of Ziva being in the coma, Ducky had come in to visit, bringing with him a large Caesar salad, which he presented to McGee. "Here, Timothy," he said softly, as McGee didn't even look at him, his eyes focused on Ziva, though he seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"I'm not hungry, Ducky," McGee said, though his stomach chose that moment to growl in protest of his statement, making him sigh. He turned to face Ducky. "It doesn't seem fair. Me sitting here, eating of my own will, being conscious and alive, while Ziva's forced to lie there in that bed, kept alive by tubes and machines." He frowned and reached out for the container Ducky held, opening it and poking some lettuce, knowing that Ducky would stand there and watch him eat until he was satisfied he'd had enough.

He made quick work of the salad, handing Ducky the empty container a few minutes later, and Ducky smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "Good, Timothy," he said, pausing before adding, "She is not gone, you know." McGee looked up at him, his eyes curious with a dash of hope. Ducky smiled down at him. "If you have not already, I would suggest letting her know." His eyes twinkled and he said, "I will leave you now, but I do hope to be called back soon." That made McGee smile a bit and Ducky rested a hand on his shoulder. "Good night, Timothy."

"Good night, Ducky," McGee said as the older man walked from the hospital room, closing the door softly behind him.

As soon as Ducky was gone, McGee turned back to Ziva, his heart sinking as he took her in, motionless and pale in the bed. He swallowed and scooted his chair closer to the bed, knowing Ducky was right and he had to man up and do this.

He took her hand, brushing his thumb across her fingers, and cleared his throat before speaking. "Hey, Ziva," he started, trying not to get too emotional. "So, I just . . . I wanted you to know that, uh . . ." He shook his head to himself, trying to rid himself of his nerves. He thought it was silly to be nervous, because Ziva was in a coma and it wasn't like she could make fun of him for what he was about to say. And he knew that she wouldn't do that, anyway. She had always been very respectful and kind to him. But that still didn't make him feel any less nervous about what he wanted to say to her. He sucked in another breath and started again.

"Ziva, you have to wake up. This isn't . . . right. You shouldn't be lying there in a coma, while I'm sitting here, perfectly fine. And I just . . . You should know . . ." He let out a noise of frustration as he was again unable to just come out and say what he wanted to say. "You mean everything to me, Ziva. There, I said it. I don't want to say I'm . . . I'm in love with you or anything, because I don't even know, but I do know that I won't be able to handle it if you die. And when you wake up, I'm tired of pretending. I want to be with you, Ziva. I want to be with you and I want to keep you safe." He let out a sad laugh at the last part of his statement. "Yeah, like I've been so good at that so far."

He reached up with his free hand and ran his fingers through her hair, trying to ignore the tears he felt building up in his eyes. "You deserve to be taken care of, to have someone who will do anything for you, and I want to be that person." A tear slipped out and he let out another laugh, this one in disbelief. "Wow, I said it. I told you how I feel. And I just hope . . . I hope you'll let me in. I'm not exactly Prince Charming, but something tells me you're not really into that sorta guy, anyway."

He continued running his fingers through her hair, then paused, hesitating for a moment before standing and leaning over her. It was something he'd done countless times in the time she had been there, but he'd never had the nerve to do what he wanted to do.

Until now.

He leaned in closer to her, lowering his lips to hers and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to them. He closed his eyes and stood up, letting out a deep breath before opening his eyes again. He wasn't sure what he was expecting - that his kiss would be the magic spell needed to wake her, like something out of a fairy tale - but she continued to sleep.

He sat down heavily, rubbing at his eyes before looking back to her and sighing. He picked up her hand again, more out of habit than anything else, and sat back, ready for another long night of waiting.

* * *

McGee woke with a start, looking around in confusion. He remembered where he was and settled down, then looked at Ziva and his eyes widened.

"Nurse! Someone, please, I need help!"

A couple of nurses rushed into the room, smiling when they saw what had happened. One nurse poked and prodded, while the other said, "Welcome back."

"Ziva?"

"I have been here the entire time, McGee," Ziva spoke up from behind one of the nurses, and moved out from behind her so McGee could see her.

In the bed, McGee raised a hand to his head. "What happened?" he asked.

"We were in a standoff with a suspect when you were shot and lapsed into a coma," Ziva provided, nodding at the nurses, who left the room when they were satisfied McGee was stable enough to be left alone with Ziva. She returned to her spot in the chair beside his bed, smiling at him.

He gave her a concerned look. "You got shot . . ."

She nodded, holding up her right arm, which was encased in a sling. "In the shoulder. It barely grazed me. I was in and out of the hospital in a matter of hours . . . so to speak." She looked down, trying to grasp what had just happened.

"How long was I . . ." McGee started, and Ziva looked up again, not missing the concern in his eyes.

"Just over a week," she replied softly, and stood up then, needing to escape, so she could get some sense of control over her emotions. "I should go . . ."

"Ziva, wait," McGee said, and she looked back at his face. He looked confused, then smiled. "I had this really weird dream. You were Sleeping Beauty . . . or Snow White, one of those fairy tale characters, and I found you, and I saved you." He shook his head. "Weird."

"Yes," Ziva agreed, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry. How closely his dream echoed the reality of the situation, how she had nearly given into her emotions and done just that very thing, kissing him to wake the sleeping prince, made her head spin.

"Ziva?" She looked up at McGee saying her name again and saw that he once again looked worried, but he tried to cover it up. "I . . . knew you were here. I didn't want to let you down."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He couldn't have possibly . . . "What do you mean?" she asked, finding herself sitting down again despite herself.

"I heard what you said, Ziva," he said, trying to smile. "And I don't want to say I'm in love with you, either . . ."

Ziva shot out of her chair then, startling McGee, but she was gentle as she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "You sweet, sweet man," she murmured, cradling his head against her. "I do not deserve you, not at all."

He smiled against her neck. "I take it that means you weren't just saying that, then?"

"Never, McGee," Ziva responded, letting out the breath it felt like she had been holding for the past five years, ever since she first met him.

Outside the room, the rest of the team stood, happy to have McGee back, but baffled at how he seemed to have just picked up right where he left off.

"It is quite remarkable," the head nurse told Gibbs, shaking her head. "He appears to have no brain damage at all, not to mention he seems to be very aware of what happened while he was in the coma." She turned her head back toward McGee's room, smiling at the scene enfolding inside. "We'll likely keep him here for a few more days for observation, but then I think you could entrust him to someone outside of the hospital for help. Perhaps Agent David?" She grinned and walked away, leaving Gibbs blinking in surprise.

Ducky appeared in front of Gibbs then and Gibbs snapped out of his surprise. "What happened with McGee, is it really . . .?"

Ducky nodded. "I would call it a miracle, Jethro. That and," he turned his own gaze toward the door to McGee's room, "perhaps the power of love." He smiled and turned back to Gibbs, turning the younger man around and pushing him away from the room. "Now, we should allow them some time without our prying eyes watching every move they make."

They walked away, Tony and Abby following, while inside the room, Ziva had taken a seat on the bed beside McGee, a new glow to her face that no one had ever seen before. She leaned in toward McGee, gently kissing him, as she thought to herself how she had finally found her own Prince Charming.

**THE END!**

****_That's it! Hope you guys liked the twist. ;) It won First Place in our last Hinky Awards for plot twist, hee hee. :D Thanks for the reviews/alerts/favorites! Always appreciated. :) _


End file.
